


Yes, Tom - Chapter 25

by riddlemetitillatedhiddles (ninecats)



Series: Yes, Tom [26]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Female Ejaculation, Oral Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:21:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninecats/pseuds/riddlemetitillatedhiddles





	Yes, Tom - Chapter 25

    Tom's and my 6 month anniversary was approaching, and he had a huge surprise planned. I didn't have a clue what it was, although I had been tremendously and increasingly bratty whilst trying to figure it out. Despite this, Tom took a rather forgiving attitude and enjoyed teasing me about it on occasion.   
    That Friday, he was gone for a few hours to run some mysterious errands that I was sure had to do with my present. So I took that time to rummage around and try to find out what it was. Of course, I didn't find anything. He was doing a really really good job of making sure I had no clue. I didn't even know if it was a gift.   
    As soon as he got home, he knew immediately that I had been nosing around. Smiling that cheeky grin, he shook his head and laughed. "Elizabeth, you know you're never going to find anything so I don't know why you keep trying."  
    "What? I didn't do anything!" I protested in mock anger. The look he gave me was one of good-natured annoyance; lips somewhat pursed, brows slightly furrowed, head cocked to one side.   
    "Pack a bag. We'll be gone for 4 days."  
    "Wait, what? Oh my god! Where are we going?" I ran up to him, wrapping my arms around him and begging him, "Please, tell me! Tom! At least a hint!"  
    He suppressed a chuckle, but then chastised me, "No, no hints. But it isn't far away, we'll be taking the car. The phone stays at home. You can check voicemail from mine. Laptop stays here, too. You can write in your journal by hand, understood?"  
    Nodding, I replied, "Yes, sir," although I was a bit nonplussed to say the least. Even though I wasn't allowed on Tumblr, or Twitter, I did like to play the occasional game on Facebook. The main reason I wanted to take my phone and computer, though, was to talk to my friends. I still had no one to hang out with in London other than Sarah, and she wasn't exactly easy to talk to about things. Plus, she was busy most of the time and, most importantly, Tom really didn't get along with her. He hadn't forbidden me from being friends with her, which would be totally within our relationship's rules to do, but it was easier not to have her over. So, lately I had started texting with a few of my old friends from Tumblr. While Tom's and my relationship was going to be official soon, it wasn't yet, so I only was honest about dating him with two of my closest online friends and the people I knew from Marvel. Tom usually read through most of my texts, but if I told him it was private, he would allow me to delete them.   
    I went to get my suitcase, trying to decide what to take. Since it was by car, I figured we were staying in England, so I packed for typical weather, and then lots of lingerie. "Are you sure I shouldn't pack anything specific?"  
    "Shoes you can walk in."  
    "Wait, what?"  
    "You heard me." I turned, rolling my eyes, and from the hallway outside the bedroom I could hear him add in a slightly sterner tone, "You'd better not be rolling your eyes." Sometimes I could swear the man was psychic.   
    Lugging my suitcase to the top of the stairs, I saw Tom at the front door. He ran upstairs and took my bag, kissing me and patting me on the ass. While he took my stuff to the car, I grabbed my Wellies and some beat-up Vans, figuring that would cover any weather situation, and threw them into an old tote bag. Before Tom got back, I made a fateful decision, but one that would take a while to catch up to me: I picked up my phone and, thinking it was turned off, put it in the inside pocket of my jacket. I didn't really think about it too much, honestly. However, it definitely wasn't by mistake. I chose to take the phone knowing full well I had been told not to, and knowing full well if I was caught, the consequences would be severe.  
  
***  
  
    In the car, Tom was giddy almost. He even had a whole playlist made on his iPod for the trip. It started with Phoenix, "Lasso", which set the perfect upbeat tone and made Tom play drums on the steering wheel like a big dork. Plus, he promised when we stopped for groceries later, he'd let me buy some vodka so we could make cocktails. He still wouldn't tell me where we were going, but he did let it slip that we'd be staying in a nice rented house somewhere in the country.   
    It was actually in Wales. When, after driving for about three hours I saw the sign and figured it out, I was thrilled, because I still hadn't been able to do much traveling. Other than Iceland, England was the only place I'd been to in Europe since I left US. Tom promised we'd get to do some more traveling once he got his schedule figured out.  
    Since we were going to be in the car so long, I decided it would be the perfect time to bring up something I'd been avoiding. It had been keeping me up at night, and tearing me apart the rest of time. But car rides always made me sleepy, and I started to doze off. Right as I was about to succumb to sleep, out of the blue Tom asked, "When were you going to tell me about the job offer?"  
     _Oops._ The little issue of the job offer. Well, it wasn't little. It was huge. They must have called Tom when I didn't call them back with my answer. I should have known they would, since everyone there knew by now that we were living together. Basically, I had gotten a call from Marvel, asking me to go to US for a couple of weeks and help with the Iron Man 3 release in May. Basically, it was a gopher position, but it was still a job, and they said if I did this for them, that they might be able to get me a position assisting the script supervisor on Guardians of the Galaxy, which would seriously be a huge opportunity.  
    If I could do the assistant job, and take a course on basics in continuity, this could be a possible career path for me. And since I had a little background in drawing as well as writing, it actually was a really good fit, since it was a highly visual job but one that required the ability to remember large quantities of the written script. Script supervising wouldn't pay particularly well, but it worked closely with key people on the set, especially the director. So I could make a lot of contacts, which would help me to eventually get my own project done, or maybe even direct a film. Of course, this was a lot of hypotheticals, and a few years in the future. There were no guarantees. I was excited about the possibilities, though, and that Marvel was interested in me. Really, I was.   
    But I honestly didn't want to go.  
    Before, when our relationship was just finding its way, Tom had always been the one to try and keep me close to him. My automatic reaction was the complete opposite, craving independence and distance. But now? After all the shit we'd been through recently, I was honestly terrified to leave. The wonderful rhythm we'd finally established seemed too tenuous to risk an absence. Especially so soon.   
    Tom had actually promised he'd ask around and see if anyone needed any help for the summer. I didn't want to commit for much past September, because Tom and I had decided that it would be fun for me to go along with him when the press tour of Thor 2 started. Not as his assistant, just as… well, as his girlfriend. He told me he had asked around, but hadn't found anything yet. So when I received the call, I waited, hoping that he had either found me a job, or maybe even would say I couldn't go. Of course, I should have known he'd never do what I expected.  
    "Umm… I guess I was going to tell you today."  
    "Oh, Elizabeth. Don't worry. I'm not upset. I think it's a brilliant opportunity!" He reached over, his fingers pushing in between my own, weaving our hands together. A huge grin covered his face and he chuckled softly. "I'm so proud of you. I think you should do it."  
    "Oh," I tried half-heartedly to pretend I was excited, relieved at his support, by uttering a listless, "Great." Forcing a smile, I curled my fingers forward, pulling on his and forcing his hand to engulf mine. God his hands were so lovely. With my other hand, I traced my fingertip along his knuckles, then up, following the veins that meandered across his wrist.  
    "Elizabeth?" I didn't answer; I just stared out the window, watching the scenery speed past in a blur, my thoughts following suit. Moving so fast, but nothing concrete, just a muddled mess. Pulling his hand back, he turned the music off, obviously perplexed. "I thought you'd be happy, darling."  
    "I…" Sighing, I tried to gather my thoughts, tried to find a way to explain what I was feeling. I just didn't know how to tell him I was the insecure one now. I was the one that was scared of being left. And not just scared he would leave me; that he would leave me for Sophie. That woman worried me, no matter how much Tom reassured me that it was over, that his feelings were only for me. I'd seen his face, overcome with emotion when he spoke of their past. It terrified me. But I wasn't ready to tell him that. I just couldn't. "I am happy. I guess I just don't want to have to be away from you for so long."  
    "Well of course it will be difficult, but we can do it. You're always telling me we have to be apart at some point, right?" He leaned over and gave me a quick peck on the cheek, careful to keep his eyes on the road.   
    Nodding, I admitted, "Yeah, I said that a lot didn't I?"  
    "Okay, Elizabeth, you're obviously not telling me something, now what is it?" Increasingly frustrated, Tom was starting to tire of my games. And I understood, I just couldn't bring myself to say the words. Admit how I'd somehow become the insecure, clingy one.  
    "I'm sorry," I offered softly. "Can I just write about it in my journal? I mean, when we get home. They said I could have until next week and we're on vacation. I really don't want to have to…"  
    "Well, I hate to leave this until…" Glancing over, he noticed the look on my face, the nervous fidgeting, my scrunchy brow. His tone gentler, he tried to reassure me, "It's okay darling. I'm sorry for pushing you. We'll discuss it when we get back to London. Okay?"  
    "Yes, sir. Thank you." I relaxed a little, even though I knew it would be difficult regardless. But at least I wouldn't have to come out and say it outright. It was embarrassing, and I just hoped Tom would understand. I had four days to not have to think about it, though. Turning the music back on, it was Mumford and Sons, "Not With Haste". _We will be who we are, and we'll heal our scars./ Sadness will be far away._ If only it were so simple. But I pushed it out of my mind and tried to relax. Finally, I fell asleep, lulled by the motion of the car and the lilting music promising me deliverance.

****  
  
    Our cottage was on the coast in south Wales. We stopped at Tesco's in Swansea for snacks and alcohol for the night, since we'd be too tired to go anywhere, then started the ten minute drive to the cottage. It was in Mumbles, on Swansea Bay. After we put the bags in the car and headed out, I fell asleep again, despite the short ride, and didn't wake up until Tom was nudging me gently, telling me we were there. It was late by the time we arrived but I could still tell how gorgeous the house was. It was a converted stone barn, lovingly renovated and modernized. I was floored when I saw it. There was a garden, and views of the bay. The night was so clear, there were a million stars lighting up the sky. It was perfect. I lost myself for a moment, breathing in the ocean air.  
    "Darling? Come on, it's late. I'll show you everything tomorrow?"  
    "You've been here before?"  
    "Once, but it was a while ago." Tom picked up our bags and handed me the key to open the door. Inside, the wooden floors were creaky, but the furniture exquisite, most of it period. It was after 10, and we had some bread and cheese and made cocktails from lemonade and vodka. Since I hadn't broken any (!) rules all day, and Tom had allowed me a reprieve from my to-do list for the duration of the trip, he decided I could also skip my journal, but just for the night.   
    Tipsy and exhausted, we sat on the couch in the loft area and talked, playing music on the stereo system. Chet Baker, "Let's Get Lost" came on; the perfect accompaniment. Relaxed, no pressure, every problem we'd ever had left back in London. And yet… There it was. The nagging. That little voice in my head, whispering the doubts and fears repeatedly until it was so loud I couldn't ignore it. Of course, it didn't help that the alcohol loosened my inhibitions. I had to ask. I had to know. "Tom? You didn't come here with Sophie… did you?"  
    "No," he scoffed, but it wasn't immediate. There was a hesitation. It was barely a hesitation, but a hesitation nonetheless. Maybe I had imagined it? Had I become so paranoid I thought everything was a lie? When it came to that woman, I couldn't even trust my instincts. Tom was here, with _me_. Right? He took _me_ places. Right? Why was I so intent on creating issues when any impartial observer would look in and see none?  
    It made me feel guilty, it did. But it wasn't just the possible delay in his denial. There was something else adding to my insecurities. After Tom had virtually begged me to let him announce our relationship "officially", he had done literally nothing. In fact, over the past two weeks since the conversation, we had continued the same routine as before, where we would arrive separately at events so as not to arouse suspicion. I was fine with that, really, but not after searching my heart and soul and finally relenting on the issue, then having him just forget about it, or drop it, completely. And I didn't know why. Well, I thought I knew. And I thought it was her. It had been eating away at me. It was just an added nagging voice to join the chorus in my mind.  
    "But then…" I stared at the ceiling, looking for the courage I needed. Failing to find it, I paused and closed my eyes.  
    "But then what, darling?" My reluctance obvious, he furrowed his brow, but waited patiently for me. Reaching out, he pushed the fingertip of his index finger into the palm of my hand and waited for me to curl my own fingers around his. It was a little ritual we had developed recently. A way to reconnect. Sometimes during particularly painful punishments, or incredibly intense or emotional sex; sometimes we used it just when one of us was upset and needed reassurance. I clutched tightly at the lifeline that was his long, slender finger, grateful, but still wanting an explanation.  
    "Then why did you ask me to let you tell everyone I'm your girlfriend if you didn't want to…"  
    "Oh god… is that what you think? I'm so sorry, Elizabeth. I should have told you. I did an interview that will be published at the beginning of May. We just decided that it would be better if it was in black and white, so there would be no mistake. You know how the fans are…" He curled his finger, massaging the palm of my hand.  
    "So it's not because of…" I kept my eyes down, chewing nervously on my lip.  
    I was lying on my back, my legs settled comfortably across Tom's lap. Curling his hands around my thighs, he maneuvered himself between my legs until he was lying on top of me. He propped himself up on the arm of the sofa and gazed intently at me. Quietly, but emphatically, he answered again, "No, Elizabeth. No, sweetheart. You have to realize, Sophie is nothing to me. Don't you know that? I love you. So much. Please, you have to know that…"   
    "So when the interview is published, then…"  
    "Then the whole world will know you are mine. You _are_ mine, right? I love you more than I ever thought possible…." His voice gradually lowered, the words trailing off as his mind became otherwise engaged. Inhaling sharply, he pressed his growing hardness against me and rotated his hips. "Mmm…"  
    "I love you, too. And of course I'm yours. But Tom…" I didn't particularly want to have sex. Honestly, my mind was elsewhere, the doubts and everything still weighing on my heart despite his insistences. But between the alcohol, the romantic seaside cottage, and Tom's fucking cologne? I was powerless. All it took was his lips on my neck and the blood started rushing to my thighs. "Oh god…"  
    "That's my girl. You are irresistible, darling, I just can't keep myself away from you. Our bodies fit together. Everything about us fits together…" My skirt bunched around my hips, I lifted my legs a little, angling myself to fit snugly against his now-rigid but still-clothed cock. Reaching up, he unbuttoned and removed my blouse, then carefully undid my bra before helping me lie back down. He laid his cheek against my abdomen, letting his fingertips dance along the curve of my breasts before moving up to my nipples. His eyes wide, marveling at the piercings. "So perfect. They're just so beautiful. They were already perfect, of course, but… That you would do this for me?" He sat up, a solemn look on his face. "It means so much, Elizabeth. Really."  
    "I'd do anything for you… ahh…" Teasing my nipples with the tip of his tongue, the complexity of speech suddenly eluded me. His hand found the arch of my back, lifting me up a little and adjusting my position. Touching gingerly, gently; the piercings were healed but we wanted to be sure. I had an appointment in a week to go get them checked. Finally he closed his mouth around one, swirling his tongue, then tugging ever-so-slightly with the bar held delicately between his teeth. I gasped. It was such a new sensation. Unable to stop moaning, the sounds kept flowing from me unabated, a rushing waterfall of melodious resonance, echoing around us in the vaulted ceilings.   
    Tom's grip tightened around my waist. "Oh god… You know the sounds you make drive me wild. God yes…" I wasn't sure if it was because he was tipsy, or what, but suddenly he pushed up closer, brushing his lips against my ear, purring, "What would you like me to do, darling? I want to make you feel incredible…" He trailed kisses up and around my neck, sucking at the hollow of my throat.   
    I shivered, my mouth open but no sound coming out. After a breathy sigh, I managed to offer a shaky, "I… you always make me feel incredible, sir…"  
    "Shh… We'll do that in a bit. For right now, let's just be us. I just want to be with you for a moment, okay? No pretenses, no roles, just you. Can we do that?" Desire weighed down his lids along with his voice, inebriation assisting, and I just sort of melted. The two vodka lemonades I'd had didn't hurt. Not that it mattered, really. Once he touched me, he made me quiver pretty much regardless.   
    "Of course, Tom, we can do whatever you want…" My hands cupped his face, and I kissed him, softly, my tongue lingering on his bottom lip, teeth pulling the tender flesh as he pulled away.  
    "But what do _you_ want. Elizabeth, I want to… please you." Brow furrowed, eyes wide with expectation, he stared at me, waiting. I didn't really know what to say. We'd had sex outside of our roles before, sure, but he seemed particularly excited about it on this night. Eager to please. It felt different. It wasn't forced, like that terrible morning after New Year's, but it wasn't desperate, really, like before we left Wisconsin. His emotions appeared so pure, so genuine. It was incredibly passionate. I forgot every doubt, every nagging voice in my head, and surrendered my body to him.  
    "I love the way you make me feel. You always please me. But if I could pick one thing… that I love more than anything… I guess it would be the way your tongue feels between my legs…"  
    He smirked, narrowing his eyes a little, his hand now sliding into my panties. "Mmm… really, darling? Would you like my tongue against your clit…" The tip of his index finger twirled about my clitoris, not giving much but just the hint of sensation. Teasing.   
    "Yes, please…"  
    A soft laugh, then he removed his hand from my panties, looping his fingers into either side of the silky red fabric and deftly sliding them down. My hips wriggled to assist him, and when he was finished, I undid my skirt and began to pull it down, too. I was completely naked; Tom was still totally dressed. Exposed, it felt even more exciting. "I love you so much, Elizabeth." His mouth teased along my thighs, barely grazing, his breath so hot and thick. I shivered, my own voice melodic and soft, each exhalation like a tiny moan. "I love you, too… ohhh…"  
    "Goodness, darling. I haven't even begun," he teased gently, his eyebrow curving up. "Alright, I want you to put your hands over your head, on the sofa arm. They will stay there, no matter what. Understood?"  
    "Yes, sir…" I lifted my arms up and laid them on the couch arm, limply folded above my head. Tom tucked a pillow under my neck so I'd be more comfortable, then moved back down. Lying against my stomach once again, he watched the movement of my chest as my back arched, his eyes fixed on the flow of my bosom, each tiny shudder of my muscles. My breath quickened, causing my chest to undulate slightly. With one hand, he caressed the contour of my breast, then brushed his thumb over the nipple before moving his concentration back down to the spot just below my navel.   
    "Look at me, Elizabeth. I want you to watch me. The entire time."   
    He fixed his gaze on me and waited for my assent. I replied with a demure, "Yes, sir," as I watched him closely. Just the hint of a smile, his mouth open on my skin. He ran kisses down to the top of my thigh, deep kisses, savoring the taste of my flesh. Already whimpering, I parted my legs farther, beckoning him.  
    "Impatient girl… " I pouted softly, but didn't reply as he smirked and went back to his torturous pace. Trailing his tongue along my inner thigh, he moved back just enough to allow the slight movement of air to hit my now-dripping folds. Already swollen, ready to be taken, and yet he persisted, giving me everything but what I wanted. What by now I desperately needed. Grazing his teeth against the tender skin, he began to nip, gradually progressing to biting. When he bit me, hard, I opened up, my lips already plump with excitement, now blooming for him, begging wordlessly for release. Settling back even more, Tom smiled at me. Well, he smirked. He knew. He always did. "Don't look away."  
    "Yes, sir… ohhh…" He exhaled directly onto my wetness, and I writhed, cried out, and finally, I begged, "But please, god please…"  
    "Please what, darling? Hmm?" My eyes pleading, my mouth forming the words but no sound would come out. "Well, then, I guess you won't receive any release at all." He tsked at me, muttering, "It's a shame, really."  
    "Tom!" I complained, my voice a plaintive whine.  
    "Oh that's not helping," he chastised, although his voice wasn't angry, or even irritated, it was playful.  
    "Sir, please. Please can you put your tongue on my clitoris. I'll do anything you ask. I can't take any more teasing…" It was to no avail. He was intent on making me work for it.  
    "Hmm… can't or won't?" Curling his tongue out, he leaned down farther, his gaze penetrating me, and flicked the tip against my tender nub, but only for a half a second, then retreated, the smile even broader now.  
    "Oh god, sir, please!" I lifted my hips and repeated, "Please, sir!"  
    He didn't say a word. He just flashed that grin and leaned down, his tongue running from my entrance up to my clitoris. I gasped, and I almost moved my hands, but managed at the last moment to keep them in place. When he reached my little bud, he closed his lips around it, sucking languidly, his velvety tongue pressed just hard enough, moving rhythmically in little bursts. Occasionally, he would push his tongue into my slit and swirl it around, his thumb keeping time on my clitoris. Finally, he moved his hand completely and buried his face in my wetness, lifting my hips towards the ceiling, his eyes refocusing on mine.   
    "Please can I come?"  
    "Greedy pet, aren't we?" he teased, enjoying fully this game.  
    "Please, sir!" His face softened and I knew he'd say yes, I just needed to give him a little more. "Please. Please, sir, your mouth on my pussy feels so good. Ohh… god… Please sir…"  
    "You may come." I closed my eyes, lids fluttering, mouth agape. It took only a few seconds before I found release. The orgasm crashed into me quickly, violently, a wave breaking against my body, and I floated, weightless, allowing myself to be pulled with the water.  The sounds of pleasure his mouth could elicit from me… I knew he loved them. The little sighs and groans. This time, though, I could barely contain them. The climax so powerful, I yelled out, cried, moaned.  
    "Dear god…" Tom inhaled sharply, and I could see him reach down, undoing his pants and reaching in, retrieving his hard cock. He used one hand to keep rubbing my clitoris, the other dealing with his trousers. As soon as my orgasm abated, he pushed his tip between my slick folds and entered me, fast and hard. Rising to his knees, he grabbed my thighs and wrapped my legs around his waist. This new position allowed him more leverage as he leaned forward, one hand now pinning my arms against the sofa. He thrust relentlessly, and for a moment, it was almost uncomfortable, my whole body still sensitive. Sensing something, he didn't slow, but his lips brushed against mine, and he whispered, "I want to make you come like this, just let go and relax, give it a moment."  
    Panting, I replied breathlessly, "Yes, sir," but I was doubtful. The position gave me no clitoral stimulation, and I wasn't allowed to move my arms. And then, I was about to tell him I needed to stop, or ask for permission to touch myself, when…   
    It happened. Like a fucking freight train hitting me, it was that powerful, that sudden, that overwhelming. I screamed, "Oh… my… fucking god!" My head pressing the pillow flat, my arms moving without my mind telling them to, my whole body losing perspective, and yet my mind was submerged in euphoria. Infinite currents of pleasure, rippling through me, my body beyond any control anymore. Suddenly, I could feel something warm and wet, but I thought it was Tom's ejaculate, and somehow I didn't care at all anyway, my mind too saturated in bliss.  
    "Elizabeth, oh yes! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!" Tom came, his body heaving violently, and as I opened my eyes and looked down, I could see a little liquid seeping out from where our bodies met. Before I could think too much about it, he collapsed on top of me, uttering in a giddy, albeit hoarse voice, "Oh god, that was it! Did you feel it?"  
    "Oh… oh!" The switch flipped, and I realized exactly what had happened. He kissed me deeply, then grabbed our clothing and pushed it beneath us before he pulled out, allowing the fluid to gush out of me. "Wow. Holy fuck. I thought that was a particularly intense orgasm. I guess that must be why."  
    "I knew I could do it," he joked as he moved the fluid-covered garments, lying back down on top of me. "That was ridiculously fucking intense."  
    "It was... Wait, I thought I did it? No?"  
    "No," he complained with mock disdain. "I'm the one that did all the work." His voice had that low, gravelly tone he always used when he was being completely shameless, and that silly grin.  
    "Okay, fine. You did it, _sir._ "  
    "Watch it, darling. I can still spank you," he chided, but I knew he was joking.  
    "I love you, Tom. Thank you." My face solemn, I searched his eyes, feeling guilty and yet still not completely assured of my place in his world.  
    "I love you, too, Elizabeth. Come on, let's take a shower. I'm exhausted."


End file.
